Resident Evil: Hostile Territory
by BlackOp
Summary: Members of another UBCS squad battle through Raccoon City, after their helicopter crashes.


Disclaimer – CHARACTERS ARE MINE MOTHER FUCKERS! (Unless there are cameo appearances from the original Resident Evil series)

Note - I haven't used FanFic for a very long time, and I have forgotten the code for italics. Could someone please tell me in a review or something? Also, I may be interested in having others co-write this fic with me, whether its controlling another character or whatever. Also, suggestions to the fic will be well appreciated.

Enjoy.

Chapter 1 – Razor Two

The loud whizzing noise from the helicopters rotor blades struggled to drown out the sounds of the Raccoon City residents screaming below. The black hawk helicopter was high up, so the passengers inside the bird of death had to struggle to see what was happening below. Tom Schofield, who was sitting on the rear bench, leaned his head over the opening to take a look at the city below. He could see the rooftops of buildings, different shapes and sizes. He could also just manage to see hundreds of people, which looked like small blips to him, running around.

As Schofield raised his head, he saw the other black hawk helicopters flying in a perfect line beside him, each helicopter leaving a fifteen-meter space between them. He could just make out the typical green and khaki uniform of the UBCS soldiers, who were sitting at the opening of the chopper, their legs dangling over the edge. Schofield sat back in his seat, taking a deep breath as he began to gradually build up adrenaline.

There were seven other UBCS members in the helicopter, all wearing more or less the same uniform. Since UBCS was a mercenary group, the soldiers had to buy their own gear, as long as it was olive green at the top, and khaki's at the bottom. Everyone had the sense to bring kneepads, fingerless gloves and of course, black steel cap boots. The only thing Umbrella would issue them was their black assault vest, with the UBCS insignia on the back, which was the Umbrella logo, with a shield in the centre and two swords crossing it. Umbrella also provided their weaponry. So everyone had an M4A1 assault rifle and Sig Sauer P228 pistol, customised to his or her own preference. He kept the pistol inside a holster on his left thigh, and held a combat knife, which also acted as an M4 bayonet on his right thigh holster. As Schofield looked around at the other soldiers M4's, he noticed that some had red dot sights, and vertical grips. Schofield himself just had a plain M4 with a zoom scope, since he was a sniper in his previous regiment.

One guy, who Schofield recognised as the ex-Navy Seal, had an M203 grenade launcher under his rifle, and a laser system on the side of the barrel. Something that no one else seemed to have the privilege of having. Schofield's eyes travelled from the M4, along the fingerless gloves that held it, and up to the face of the ex-Special Forces member. He was tanned, had stubble, and curly brown hair. He had a small hint of a grin on his face, and managed to impress Schofield, due to his calmness. He seemed to be controlling his anticipation and adrenaline unlike everyone else, who seemed to be fidgeting. The SEAL turned his head, making eye contact with Schofield, and giving him a small nod before smiling.

Schofield just nodded back, before turning his head to the opening, looking over the heads of the soldiers that were sitting in the opening, and turning his attention to the city below. Schofield didn't even know the SEAL's name, but felt very comfortable having a Special Forces member on his team. It also managed to keep the teasing from the other teams at bay. The other squads teased Schofield's, just because there was two British members, one of them being Schofield, and the other being a very young woman, Dixon, who just happened to be sitting next to him. She was quite short, skinny, and had short brown hair that ended just before the collar of her shirt. God knows how such a young, pretty and innocent looking girl became a mercenary.

Most of the squad was made up of Americans, and a Russian, who was the Captain. One thing that Schofield noticed was that the UBCS seemed to love a Russian, and liked to put them in charge. The only people that seemed to stick out were the Captain, the SEAL, and the two Brits. This squad had only been put together two days ago, and no one had had a chance to properly be acquainted with each other, although they knew each other's last names. Well, Schofield didn't catch the SEAL's name, due to him always staying quiet, and keeping to himself.

Suddenly, the pilot shouted, getting everyone's attention.

"ETA, three minutes!" He shouted over the noise.

Everyone felt a sudden change in speed, as the helicopter seemed to slow down a notch, preparing to lower its altitude. This gave the Captain a chance to stand up in the centre of the black hawk, to give the usual last minute summary of what the situation was. He wore an olive green beret, so people could easily identify him as the one in charge. Although, he was easily noticed anyway, looking like a typical Russian. He was in his late 30's, but looking much older, with rough skin and drowsy eyes, complete with a parrot shaped nose. He held his M4 in one hand, and holding onto the safety bar above him with his other.

"Ok team, listen up" he said, with a thick Russian accent, something taken straight from a James Bond movie. "We have gone over it a dozen times, but it is required that I give one last summary. There has been a biohazard outbreak from the local Umbrella laboratory. It has been confirmed that the product is no longer airborne, so we do not have to fear of getting infected ourselves. Some civilians have been infected though, but the effects are unknown, and it is possible that they could spread it with human contact. So it is vital that we evacuate as many uninfected civilians, so the city can be quarantined later on".

Schofield listened carefully to the instructions. It seemed that this mission was going to be textbook. All they would have to do is keep the diseased at bay, with just a few menacing looks, and pointing a few weapons, to look threatening. No one would probably even have to fire off any shots. Piece of cake, or, piece of piss as they said in England.

"As you know, there are four teams, Whiskey one, two, three, and four. We are Whiskey two. Whiskey one will be controlling north of the city, three will be controlling west, four will be east, and we will be controlling the south" the Captain continued, whilst they got closer and closer to their landing zone.

"Roger that Razors, Razor two is leaving the flock." The co-pilot said into his microphone. Everyone looked out of the opening, as they saw the other black hawks break away from formation, heading off to their own landing zones. Each helicopter soon after disappeared out of sight into the night sky, leaving Whiskey and Razor two on their own. "Here we go..." the pilot muttered, as the helicopter began to slowly drop from the sky, gradually getting lower and lower to the rooftops. Everyone seemed to stay quiet, as they listened to the pilots making preparations for getting lowering altitude.

"Ok, lets just stay above the rooftops, get as low as possible so they can drop the ropes..." the pilot said, as he fiddled with the cockpit gizmo's. "Roger that" the co-pilot confirmed. It wasn't long before the helicopter was barely a meter above the rooftops of apartment buildings, skimming slowly along them like a fly over water. Schofield looked over the opening again, seeing there was small activity below. It was strange he thought, that the people below were staggering, rather than running and screaming.

Out the corner of his eye, Schofield noticed that Dixon was holding her nose, a look of disgust on her petite face. Schofield wrinkled his nose, before catching a horrible whiff in the air. He sniffed again, his own face beginning to crease, as he put his hand over his mouth and nose, cradling his M4 to his stomach with his other. He soon noticed that others in the helicopter were doing the same. There was a horrible smell in the air, like rotten meat. It made him feel slightly sick.

"Hey, who fucking farted?" one of the soldiers that was sitting at the opening asked. There were a few giggles, before someone decided to add to the joke. "Well, you know who to come to if you want your paint stripping done". Before it could continue, a sudden panic in the pilots voice interrupted them. "We're getting too low, pull up!" he shouted at the co-pilot, a slight hint of frustration in his voice. Schofield noticed that the chopper was going a much lower than it was supposed to. They were supposed to be above the rooftops, now they were sandwiched in between two large apartment blocks.

"I'm trying, the controls are sticking..." the co-pilot claimed. Just then, Schofield couldn't help but get a horrid feeling stuck inside him. And by the look of the others faces in the dim light, Schofield wasn't the only one. The captain, who tried his best to look calm and professional, leaned over the pilots seat to talk to him. "What's the problem?" he asked. "His control stick is jamming, but it's alright. As long as mine is working we will be fine. Its just his control is jammed on the gear to lower altitude, so we are very slowly going down, which means we will have to land early." He said, whilst concentrating on piloting the large helicopter, trying to keep it in the centre of the space available between the two buildings. "Besides, I am quite sure we have enough space here to avoid crashing..." the co-pilot added.

The captain nodded, before lightly patting the co-pilot on the shoulder. He then turned around to face the other, not that Schofield noticed, since he was looking at the opening. He watched as they flew past the building, watching the windows and alleyways zip past. "Everything is fine, just a minor malfunction-"

THWUMP!

The loud noise that had come from the rear of the helicopter and had startled everyone shook the large airborne vehicle. Everyone's heads turned in confusion, a look of worry on their face. "What the fuck was that?!" Someone shouted. "I saw it! I saw it!" someone else screamed, panic in his voice. Schofield couldn't see whom it was that was screaming, due to the darkness inside the helicopter. "What did you see?!" The captain asked curiously, a look of concern on his face. "I saw something jump from an window!". The man was clearly beginning to panic, and by the noises of others shuffling around and talking amongst each other, they weren't feeling too safe either.

"Hey, we have increased weight on board!" one of the pilots shouted, as he tried to fight the controls, which seemed to be escaping his grip, out of control due to whatever it was that had caused the extra weight.

Klink Klink Klink Klink

Schofield's heart began to beat fast as he heard something crawling underneath the bird.

"Fuck Me..." he said in his English accent, a strong hint of London cockney. "Its underneath the bloody chopper!" He shouted, holding his rifle tightly with both hands, his finger inside the trigger guard. It was a useless reaction, but it made him feel slightly more comfortable holding a fully automatic 5.56 weapon. Those that were sitting over the two openings were darting their heads around, trying to bend their necks at an angle so they could look underneath, but to no avail. "I can't see anything" one of the men said.

Suddenly, the pilot screamed, getting everyone's attention. "Oh Jesus Christ!". Schofield looked in horror as a large figure on all fours crawled across the window, attached to it like some sort of large insect. Schofield could only see the creature's silhouette, until the helicopter flew past an alleyway, allowing the moonlight for a split second to flood through and illuminate the creature. Schofield's mouth dropped, as he could have sworn that the pink fleshy beast had its brain inside out, and what seemed like a very long, spear tipped tongue lashing about.

SMASH

The cockpit glass shattered, as the beast's saliva coated tongue smashed a fist-sized hole through the glass. Its tongue made contact with the main pilots head, which exploded like a watermelon, sending skull and brain matter all over the soldiers in the back. As the soldiers began screaming, and trying to move back to the back, Schofield was too shocked to realise what was happening. There was dark red blood and all sorts of goo spattered all over his uniform, along with a bit on his cheek and forehead. He just sat there; eyes wide open as he watched the beast moving along the cockpit glass, looking for its next victim inside.

"Oh Jesus! I can't control it!" the co-pilot shouted in fear, as he tried leaning over his headless comrade to reach for the controls. "Brace!" the captain shouted, as everyone began to grab on to something. The black hawk jerked, before it began to turn sideways. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, as the birds tail slammed into the side of one of the buildings, tearing away bricks and glass. The tail rotor was easily ripped off from the forceful crash. The impact was so harsh, that everyone inside had been thrown about. Luckily, the people sitting at the openings had been strapped in.

Schofield looked at the cockpit glass, to notice the beast had gone, probably knocked off from the crash. But that was the least of their concerns, considering the helicopter was now flailing side to side out of control, due to the tail rotor being lost.

"I can't use the god damn controls!" the co-pilot shouted, as his hand moved over the control panel, which was swamped with thick blood pouring out from the severed neck of the other pilot. Whilst the Captain began urging the pilot to do something, the helicopter began to drop faster, whilst it started to spin in a circle between the two buildings, black smoke emitting from the tail. "There's no use, we're going down!" the pilot shouted, slightly drowned out by the noise of the spinning helicopter, shouting soldiers, and Captain trying to shout out safety orders, as they began to drop faster and faster to the street below. They were a split second away from crashing; this was what every soldier feared.

"HOLD ON!"

CRASH. Schofield fell unconscious.

What the hell are they?!

Uggghhh...

Halt!

Get back, Get back!

Open fire!

CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK!

URGHHH!!!!

They've got the Captain!!!

Schofield's alive! Get him to safety; I'll hold them off!

The main objective to complete in Hostile Territory, is to SURVIVE.


End file.
